


the wonderful part of the mess that we made

by Flowerparrish



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 5 + 1 Fic, 5 Times, Avengers Tower, BAMF Clint Barton, Bucky Barnes & Steve Rogers Friendship, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Deaf Clint Barton, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Date, Getting Together, Human Disaster Clint Barton, Insecure Clint Barton, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, POV Clint Barton, Pansexual Clint Barton, so much hand holding, tower fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:54:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23381920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flowerparrish/pseuds/Flowerparrish
Summary: It was an article for Variety that read: HAWKEYE AND THE WINTER SOLDIER’S SECRET ROMANCE.Clint spit coffee everywhere, as he’d unfortunately taken a sip just before reading that. He coughed, swallowing some down wrong even as he spit out the rest, and immediately Bucky was there, patting his back with strong thumps.Clint gulped down air before saying, “Wait, what the fuck?”OR5 times Bucky "saves" Clint, and 1 time Clint saves Bucky.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Comments: 66
Kudos: 507





	the wonderful part of the mess that we made

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gentle_impulsion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gentle_impulsion/gifts).



> For bluetealeaves, who requested "5 times Bucky saved Clint and 1 time Clint saved Bucky." I... may have put a little bit of a spin on it; I hope you like it! 
> 
> Thanks to Katrina for brainstorming help and Kaoticalmanac for beta reading. 
> 
> Title from Bastille's song Flaws

**1 – rescued from an awkward conversation**

“I hate this,” Clint whined, tugging at the bowtie around his neck.

Nat smacked his hands away. “Don’t ruin my hard work,” she chided.

Clint huffed but nodded, dropping his hands. He would have crossed his arms, but then he knew Nat would snap at him for ruining the lines of his tux.

He glanced across the crowded ballroom, sharp eyes seeking out the other Avengers.

Sam was chatting amiably with a group of old men, smiling broadly and laughing.

Steve was looking uncomfortable, surrounded by beautiful women, but he had Tony to draw some of the attention from beside him.

Thor had luckily escaped this event, as had Bruce and Pietro, but Wanda was chatting with some models by the wall – Clint thought he saw one pass her a napkin, possibly with a number, and _hell yeah, go Wanda –_ and Bucky…

Bucky was charming the pants – almost literally – off of anyone who walked up to him.

It wasn’t making Clint grumpy and contributing to the way he was huddled against the wall; no, not at all.

“Go mingle,” Natasha commanded.

“But Nat—” Clint started to whine.

“Go,” she insisted, eyes hard. “Don’t make me set Steve on you.”

Clint sighed and moved back into the fray, because Steve would be all too thrilled to escape long enough to give Clint a lecture.

Twenty minutes later, Clint was fending off advances from a woman who seemed to be in her seventies – but, in fairness, looked _great_ for her age – when a hand was slipped around his waist.

It was only his ability to know exactly where Bucky was at all times that stopped him from flinching. Instead, he leaned in to the touch; it wasn’t even a conscious motion, just an impulse to push closer to Bucky that overpowered his inhibitions.

His attention abruptly left the woman, who was still saying… something, Clint didn’t really care. Instead, he looked down at Bucky, eyebrow raised. “What’s up?” he asked, deeply thrown off and not really sure what was going on.

“Can’t I check up on my boyfriend?” Bucky asked, eyes dark and a single eyebrow quirked in a challenge.

Clint _really_ didn’t know what was happening: boyfriend? What?

He went with it, though, nodding and smiling. “I guess it’s allowed,” he said, playing off his momentary shock as faux deliberation instead. He looped his arm over Bucky’s shoulders, because fuck the cut of his suit, the chance to hold Bucky Barnes was _far_ more important.

The woman finally cut off, and Clint glanced at her, more out of surprise than because he really cared what had made her stop. He noticed a few other people curiously looking their direction, a couple of cell phones aimed their way, too, but it didn’t seem super important at the moment.

“You’re… dating?” she asked, eyes wide.

“Yes.” Bucky’s reply was immediate. “We’ve been keeping it quiet for now, though. I’m sure you understand.”

Mouth open in a small o, she slowly nodded. “Of course. If you’ll just… excuse me,” she blurted, and then she was gone.

Clint slumped in relief. He didn’t move his arm from around Bucky, though – he was going to get as much out of this moment as he could.

“Uh… what was that about?”

Bucky winked at him, and Clint _did not_ swoon. Really. But his heart might have skipped a beat, and if he’d been standing on his own, he probably would have tripped over nothing.

“Super-soldier hearing,” Bucky said, although it took Clint a moment to remember how to process words. “I could tell things were getting a little awkward, so I eavesdropped. Thought I’d rescue you once I figured out that she wasn’t taking no for an answer.”

Clint was ridiculously touched. “How could you tell I was uncomfortable?” he asked. “I mean, I’ve been uncomfortable all night.”

“You’ve been carrying tension in your shoulders all night,” Bucky agreed. “But your eyes were starting to pull in at the corners, which only happens when Tony and Steve mention their sex life at team dinners and you want to bolt.”

Clint wondered how he’d managed to miss Bucky watching him so closely, especially because he’d been watching Bucky pretty closely back.

Wait.

Oh no.

Was it super obvious that Clint was always watching Bucky?

“Oh,” he said after a too-long pause. “Thanks.” He pulled his arm away, because now that he was a little worried that he’d given his attraction away, he didn’t want to make it even _more_ clear.

Bucky frowned a little. “Should I not have pretended to be your boyfriend? Sorry, that was probably too far.”

Clint dredged up a smile. “No, it was smart. Thank you.”

Bucky studied him for a moment longer before shrugging, the motion drawing attention to his broad shoulders that were barely contained by the cut of his suit. Clint’s mouth went dry. “Okay,” he said. “Well, feel free to return the favor if I get trapped next.”

“You bet,” Clint promised, some of the easy tone returning to his voice. He winked at Bucky, because Bucky had winked at him before, so it must be okay, right?

Bucky turned and walked away, hands shoved into his pockets, ass perfectly hugged by the fabric. Clint wanted to sigh dreamily, but he resisted. Stupid super-soldier hearing.

Clint would have liked to have said he didn’t think about it for the next few days. He had mostly avoided thinking about it in the daytime (at least, when Bucky wasn’t in his direct line of sight). But if Bucky was in the same room as Clint, or in the hours when Clint lay awake, staring at the ceiling in the dark, hearing aids out and the world a little less real? Then, Clint could think of nothing else than the way Bucky had felt pressed against him, calling Clint his _boyfriend._ Couldn’t help but wish it was _real._

So no, Clint couldn’t have said he didn’t think about it. But it hadn’t ruined his life; he wasn’t quite _that_ pathetic (…yet).

That all changed when Tony stormed into the kitchen one morning a few days after the gala. Clint was clinging to coffee as a lifeline; Bucky was making scrambled eggs; Steve was eating cereal and reading the paper; Bruce was drinking tea and reading on his tablet; and Natasha was cleaning her knives while she drank a smoothie. Tony waved a tablet in the air, and then, because that wasn’t good enough, tapped it twice so that Jarvis would holographically display what was on his screen for everyone to see.

Gesticulating wildly, Tony cried, “What the fuck? Why didn’t you tell us?”

Clint didn’t really care what was happening. Bucky didn’t seem to either. But the tension in the room slowly ratcheted up a few notches, and Clint could feel eyes like lasers boring into the back of his skull – so, a pissed off Natasha. In front of him, Bucky’s shoulders hunched the way they only did when Steve was giving him a disapproving look; Bucky had a sixth sense and could feel it aimed his direction even when he wasn’t looking, which Clint thought was both awesome and terrifying in turns.

So, conceding to the fact that clearly he’d done something – or Bucky had? – he turned a little in his seat to look at the holographic display.

It was an article for Variety that read: HAWKEYE AND THE WINTER SOLDIER’S SECRET ROMANCE.

Clint spit coffee everywhere, as he’d unfortunately taken a sip just before reading that. He coughed, swallowing some down wrong even as he spit out the rest, and immediately Bucky was there, patting his back with strong thumps.

Clint gulped down air before saying, “Wait, what the fuck?”

“You could have told us,” Steve said, sounding hurt. When Clint glanced over at him, feeling a little hysterical and a little incredulous, he was looking like a kicked puppy. _Fuck._

“But –” Clint started to say.

“We’re not dating,” Bucky cut in over him, voice firm. “It’s just gossip.” Clint glanced back at him, and his eyes were boring into Steve as he said, “I would tell you.”

Steve slumped a little, looking relieved.

Tony, however, cleared his throat. “Well, someone might want to tell the general public that, then,” he said. “Because this isn’t the only article. And they’re gaining steam.”

Steve, the absolute traitor, called in PR.

A PR _monster_ named Heather – aka the only one trusted with handling Clint – looked at Clint and Bucky over the rims of their expensive glasses. Were they gold-plated? Where had Tony _found_ the people that made up the Avengers PR team?

“This is a mess,” they said.

“Okay,” Clint agreed, because he’d learned this all ended sooner if he just agreed. That, and it was better to save his arguing energy for when they tried to actually get him to _do_ things he didn’t want to do.

“I am only going to ask this once.” Heather enunciated each word carefully, voice underlaid with steel. “Did you say you were dating?”

“Uh…” Clint mumbled, stalling for time. He glanced frantically at Bucky, who was no help.

No help, because Bucky just looked Heather in the eye and said, “Yes.”

They let out a small sigh before squaring their shoulders. “Okay. _Are_ you dating?”

“No,” Clint blurted, relieved to know the correct answer. Bucky’s calm expression twitched a little, but not in an identifiable emotion.

“Then _why_ would you tell people that you are?”

And, oh, they were _angry_ now. Clint kind of got it. In the last day since the news had gained traction, the Avengers had been the center of many a tirade on Fox News and many an article on platforms like the Huffington Post on what it would mean for America if two of its heroes were to be in a queer relationship. There were pictures taken of their arms around each other at the gala, and old pictures of the two of them had been dredged up where they were standing “too close” or some such nonsense.

There were calls for Bucky and Clint to confirm or deny; Clint had wanted to just tweet something, but Steve had confiscated his phone (along with Bucky’s) and said they were not to comment until they’d met with PR.

“Someone was hitting on me and wouldn’t take no for an answer,” Clint said finally, breaking the tense silence that had settled. “So Bucky –”

Heather held up a hand. Clint stopped talking. “Okay,” they said slowly. Clint was beginning to think “okay” was their favorite word; that, or they used it to cope. “You have two options at present.”

Clint nodded. He glanced over at Bucky, who had his arms crossed, face settling from neutral into murder glare.

“Ignoring it is not an option; you’re too public of figures for that. So you can confirm the rumor or you can deny it,” Heather said. “If you confirm the rumor, you will have to pretend to date for at least a couple of months before amiably breaking up. The Avengers will deal with speculation about how the team can function with discord between you two; after time, when nothing changes, the negative speculation will fade.”

“Why would we want to confirm it?” Clint asked, because he honestly wasn’t seeing a whole lot of reason to go through the torture that would be fake dating Bucky Barnes when all he wanted was to _real_ date Bucky Barnes. 

“Because if you deny it, people will call you liars for saying it in the first place, and they’ll say you’re probably dating anyway. You will deal with conservative parties asserting that you have affirmed their moral viewpoint, and you will deal with liberal parties’ disappointment. It will be, frankly, very bad press.”

Clint bit his lip. “Oh.” He glanced at Bucky, who was still glowering, although now in the direction of the table rather than in the direction of Heather. Clint turned back to them to ask, “Can I talk to Bucky alone?”

They sighed and nodded. “You have five minutes. I want an answer about which option you’re going with when I get back.”

They left the room, already tapping on their phone as they went, and Clint turned to Bucky.

Bucky avoided his gaze.

“What do you want to do?” Clint asked, after he’d let half of one of their precious minutes tick away in strained silence.

Bucky sighed and finally looked up, meeting his gaze. “I got us into this mess. It should be up to you.”

Clint crossed his arms, a little affronted. “I played along,” he pointed out. “So it’s on both of us, and we should both figure out what to do.”

Bucky’s tension didn’t relent in the slightest, so Clint decided he should maybe say what he wanted first. “I don’t think we should deny it.” The words came out in a rush, and Clint paused to take a breath before continuing. “I think… it could be really important to people if we dated. I don’t want them to feel like we’re the kind of assholes who think it’s funny to queerbait, you know?”

Bucky nodded slowly. “So… you want to fake a relationship. With me.”

Clint grimaced. “Look, I know I’m probably not your first choice; you could have anyone, but—”

Bucky cut him off with a snort and a roll of his eyes. “Shut up, Barton.” He was quiet for a few long moments before he said, “Okay. Fake boyfriends?”

“Fake boyfriends,” Clint agreed, and _oh_ how he hoped he wouldn’t regret this.

**2 – tugged away from getting hit by a car**

Part of the agreement outlined with Heather was that they actually had to go on dates. They didn’t have to display much public affection, but holding hands was encouraged.

That was easy enough, and it was also just as painful as it was easy. Because holding Bucky’s hand in public made the charade feel more real, and not being able to hold Bucky’s hand any other time made the fakeness of the “relationship” stand out all the more. Having the permission to touch _sometimes_ meant Clint was more aware of how much he wanted to hold Bucky’s hand _always._

But he was handling it. He could do this. Because every time he thought maybe it wasn’t worth it, he would see a tweet or a fan email in which a queer person – often a child or teenager – talked about what it meant to have a hero to look up to, what it meant to see two men in a relationship in the public eye.

Clint had known he was bisexual pretty much since he was an adolescent, when he noticed girls but he _also_ noticed boys. He’d realized he was pansexual when he’d been able to research sexuality about fifteen years later, when he realized he was attracted to _people_ rather than genders or sexes. But he was starting to think that maybe he should have made that information public a while ago. Like, as soon as he became a public figure.

Their first date was just going out to get ice cream. There was a place called Big Gay Ice Cream – actually, there were a few of them in Manhattan – and Clint had always wanted to go. Plus, it seemed as good of a way as any to officially come out as queer.

When he said that to Bucky, the other man got a strange look on his face before he laughed a little. “Of course that’s how you’d want to come out,” he said.

Clint shrugged. “We don’t have to, though. I mean, people are gonna assume that means you’re coming out, too.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “So?”

Clint’s stomach did a little swoop. “Wait, you’re not straight either?”

Bucky did laugh then. “Pal, I don’t think any of the Avengers are straight.”

Clint considered it. “Yeah, okay, you’ve got a point,” he admitted. “I guess I just… don’t think about it much.”

Bucky bumped Clint’s shoulder and said, “Okay, when do you want to go?”

Clint glanced down at what he was wearing, which was paint splattered jeans from one time that The Avengers had played paint ball and a soft purple t-shirt with holes in it. “Uh… let me change, and we can go?”

Bucky nodded. “We can get lunch while we’re out, too, if you want.”

Clint lit up. “Yeah!” he agreed. “There’s a pizza place near the ice cream that I’ve been meaning to try.”

Bucky’s smile was soft. “Great. Sounds perfect.”

And it did. It was exactly the kind of date Clint wanted to go on. It was _so easy_ to forget that it wasn’t real.

In deference to the casualness of the date (and to serve as a reminder to himself how fake the date was), Clint didn’t dress up, just pulling on a Black Widow shirt that was a little faded but didn’t have holes and a dark pair of jeans. The jeans _were_ the pair that Nat had told him once did amazing things for his ass, but that was just convenience. They’d been the darkest pair of jeans he had, and Clint knew himself: he was absolutely going to spill something on himself before the date ended.

Bucky was waiting for him in the kitchen, sitting with Steve and talking softly. Clint couldn’t make out what they were saying – his hearing aids were good, but no hearing aids were _that_ good – but they stopped talking when he walked in, looking over at him instead.

“Ready?” Clint asked.

Bucky nodded, standing and squeezing Steve’s shoulder briefly before heading over to Clint. “Let’s do this.”

They decided to walk, because it wasn’t so far from the Tower that it would take them more than twenty minutes, and that was definitely preferable to taking the train.

Clint ended up holding Bucky’s metal hand, and it was nice and cool in the heat of the early afternoon. Clint was a little distracted by the fact that he was here, with Bucky, walking down the street and holding hands, and so he did something entirely predictable.

He tripped. Not over a crack in the sidewalk or his own shoelaces; no, that would have been too understandable.

He tripped over his own feet, his shoe catching against the pavement on one step and knocking him off balance.

It would have been fine, if someone hadn’t shoved against him as he stumbled, knocking him toward the busy street.

Bucky’s grip on his hand reeled him back to safety. Bucky raised an eyebrow at him, a little incredulous, and Clint summoned a slightly sheepish grin. Bucky rolls his eyes and started walking again, moving on in their discussion (read: argument) of which Fast and Furious movie was the best as if nothing had happened.

**3 – slipping**

They obtained the ice cream with minimal casualties.

Clint… maybe slipped – in his defense, there was a wet spot on the floor from where someone had spilled some water or something – and dropped his first ice cream. Bucky caught him before he could fall, eyebrows of judgement at their zenith, but the ice cream was a goner.

Bucky just huffed a soft laugh and bought him another one, though, and then took pictures of him out front by the sign.

“We gotta get a couple one,” Clint said, insistent even as he licked at the sides of his ice cream cone before it could drip (much) onto his hand.

Bucky shrugged and said, “Okay.” He looked at the people around them and picked a friendly looking older lady, asking her if she could take a picture “of him and his boyfriend.” Clint’s (traitorous) heart did not skip a beat.

It was a pretty great picture. Not that Clint was biased in any way.

Clint uploaded it to Instagram with the caption “Ice cream dates are the second best kind of date” and a couple of heart eyes emojis. He paused, and then he tagged it #winterhawk, because he’d seen that going around as their “couple name” and he honestly thought it sounded kind of badass.

He tagged Bucky in the pictures, too.

Putting his phone back in his pocket, he grinned at Bucky and said, “What now? Lunch?”

“Ice cream’s not spoiling your appetite for pizza?” Bucky asked, a wry smile on his face like he already knew the answer.

“Never,” Clint said solemnly. “I will always have room for pizza.”

Bucky offered his free hand to Clint. Clint’s hand… was kind of sticky from the ice cream, even as he switched hands with the cone. “You sure?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “A little stickiness isn’t gonna kill me. Maybe I want to hold your hand.”

Was he… flirting?

No, it had to be part of the boyfriend act. That was all.

Clint nodded, flashing Bucky what he hoped was a friendly smile. “Your choice,” he allowed, taking Bucky’s hand and tangling their fingers together. “Okay, pizza. I know the general direction.”

“That inspires so much confidence in me,” Bucky snarked at him, and Clint smirked in return.

“What, are you saying you don’t want to get lost with me?”

“Well, when you put it that way…” Bucky grinned, eyes dancing. “Let’s go.”

**4 – choking on pizza**

Clint didn’t get them (too) lost; by the time they finished their ice cream, they were near enough to the pizza place. It was a little fancier than the places Clint usually frequented; not so fancy that they were underdressed, but fancy enough that they served pizzas like fig and prosciutto or classic margherita. All of their dough was homemade and their pizzas were hand tossed; overall, it seemed like a promising date spot.

Until Bucky ordered the one pizza with pineapple on it. Clint was, to be honest, completely disgusted. He reevaluated his attraction to Bucky in that moment, because, could he really be into someone who liked _pineapple_ on _pizza?_

(Unfortunately: yes, he could. Bucky was still attractive. His flaws only made him even more enticing. Fuck Clint’s whole life.)

Still, Clint couldn’t resist giving him shit for it, and they argued about acceptable pizza toppings until their pizzas came. Clint hadn’t even realized they’d managed to keep holding hands across the table, sipping their drinks one-handed as they debated heatedly back and forth. It made him a little sad when he noticed, because every time his heart started to get a little lost in the moment, he had to remind himself that _this wasn’t real._

Besides, he’d been a disaster on this date so far. Why would Bucky ever want to date someone like him for real?

So Clint let go of Bucky’s hand, even though he was a pro at eating pizza and could totally eat it one-handed. This was special pizza, anyway; it deserved two hands.

Clint took the first bite, moaned a little in happiness as the taste registered, and abruptly attempted to inhale as much pizza as possible.

Until, that is, he got surprised by Bucky’s own hum of satisfaction – nowhere near the not safe for work level of Clint’s own moan, but still a noise that distracted Clint… enough that he swallowed wrong and ended up choking, a too-big chunk of unchewed crust lodged in his throat.

Fuck.

He tried to cough it out, but it wasn’t working, and he was just starting to contemplate that he might die the stupidest way possible for an Avenger to die… when there was a sharp thump to his back, and the piece dislodged.

Clint did not spit it out, because that would be gross; he chewed it and swallowed, that time effectively, before looking up at Bucky with slightly teary eyes. “Uh… thanks,” he said. His cheeks were flushed with embarrassment, but hopefully that could be passed off as an effect of the choking.

Bucky brushed away a tear that fell down Clint’s cheek, a soft gesture at odds with the eyebrows of judgement. “You good?” he asked.

“Yep,” Clint promised, begging silently for Bucky to not push it.

Bucky shrugged after a moment, taking his seat again.

They finished their pizzas, and Clint was a little more careful than usual as he ate. He got through the rest of dinner without embarrassing himself, and they headed back to the tower, a long walk during which they held hands and argued about whether or not Pacific Rim was a good movie.

Clint got so into it that he almost forgot to be embarrassed.

When they got to the elevator, Clint hit the button for each of their floors before looking over at Bucky, a small smile on his face. “Thanks for a good day,” he said, almost slipping and saying ‘date’ but catching himself.

Bucky’s face was a little unreadable again; Clint was used to that, though. Bucky’s need to shield his emotions didn’t bother Clint, especially because for every moment he pulled back, there was a moment when he would catch Clint’s eye across the room or make a whispered comment, moments that were just for him and Clint.

“You’re welcome,” Bucky said softly. A brief flash of hesitation ran over his face, and he started to reach out for Clint before the elevator pinged softly and Bucky pulled back. “See you at dinner?”

“Yeah,” Clint agreed, a little curious and a little disappointed.

The elevator doors opened and Bucky stepped out, glancing back and shooting Clint a quick half-smile before the doors shut again.

Clint slumped against the wall of the elevator, even though the ride to his floor only took about five seconds.

But it was fine. He could do this.

**5 – saved from himself**

Clint’s conviction that he could do this lasted until the next morning. He slumped into a stool at the kitchen island, waiting for coffee to brew, and pressed his forehead against the cool marble countertop.

He’d woken up every couple of hours all night, constantly pulled out of dreams – well, nightmares – of all of the various ways he could be too obvious, and Bucky could figure out his feelings, and all the ways Bucky might respond.

Clint knew, in the light of day, that Bucky would never be an asshole about it. But he couldn’t quite believe it wouldn’t ruin him anyway; if the dream where Bucky had let him down gently, and the way he’d woken up with tears in his eyes, was anything to go by, then… yeah, no.

Clint lightly banged his head against the counter, not hard enough to actually hurt himself, just trying to smack all of the negative thoughts out of his brain.

It kind of worked, so he did it again. And again. And – again, except his head fell on something soft and warm instead.

What?

Clint picked up his head, bleary eyes opening to stare at Bucky. “…huh?”

Bucky sighed. “What are you doing?”

And Clint didn’t have a great filter at the best of times, at least not around people he trusted, and this was pre-coffee Clint. So Clint said, “Trying to chase away the nightmares.”

Bucky sighed again and moved to pour some of the freshly brewed coffee into a large mug for Clint, passing it across the counter to him. “That all?”

Clint eyed him curiously. “Yeah,” he said, before taking a sip and scalding his mouth a little. He needed coffee more than he needed to be able to taste things. “Why, what else would it be?”

Bucky studied him for a minute before shrugging. “Nothing.”

It felt a lot like the kind of “nothing” that really meant “something,” but Clint let it go. Bucky poured himself some coffee and dropped an ice cube in, swirling it around before taking the seat next to Clint.

They drank their coffee in silence, but it was comfortable. Companionable.

Clint absolutely was not gripping his coffee cup with both hands so that he wouldn’t reach out and take one of Bucky’s hands instead. No, he just liked the warmth of the mug against his palms.

He was just about to get up and pour himself a second cup when the Avengers Alert went off, the sound loud enough that Clint winced and turned down his hearing aids.

“Fuck,” he complained, looking longingly at the coffee still in the pot. “C’mon, really?”

Bucky tapped his shoulder and Clint looked over at him. He signed something about one cup and already.

“My brain’s not on until I’ve had two cups of coffee,” Clint complained. “You know that.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and didn’t bother signing again, which was a blessing to Clint’s not-yet-awake mind.

“See you on the ‘jet,” Clint said after a moment, standing and heading to his rooms to gear up.

**\+ 1 – Clint saves Bucky**

Clint ran into Bucky strapping the last of his knives into holsters in the loading bay. Bucky lit up when he noticed Clint, signing _one second_ and turning behind him to retrieve something.

He turned back to face Clint and offered him a travel mug of coffee.

Clint had never been so in love with another human. He opened his mouth to respond, but then Steve was calling for everyone to get on the ‘jet so they could go. The moment passed; Bucky patted Clint on the shoulder, eyes bright, and boarded the ‘jet, Clint following in his wake.

The coffee was amazing.

Clint couldn’t stop sneaking glances at Bucky once he was on the quinjet. Natasha, in turn, caught Clint’s eye and gave him a knowing half-smile. It was the _worst._

Once they got to Michigan – and Clint would never understand why stuff like this happened in places like Michigan; like, c’mon, seriously? – and poured out of the ‘jet, Clint actually had to pay attention.

They were fighting some kind of mechanized aliens; whatever, Clint wasn’t too invested in the science of it. All he knew was that EMP arrows slowed them down, regular arrows did minimal damage, and explosive arrows did a _lot_ of damage, as did shock arrows. He stuck to those, keeping the high ground and an eye on the others as he did.

It was because he was keeping an eye on everyone that he noticed the aliens ganging up on Bucky.

Bucky, who had no one nearby to help.

An alien ship that Tony knocked out of the sky careened toward the building Clint was on – because of course it did – and that settled things nicely.

Clint fired a grappling arrow into a building just far enough to be at the end of his rope, using it to swing low and drop down a few streets away from Bucky.

He fought his way over to him, picking up one of the dead alien’s discarded weapons – some kind of scythe, which was _awesome –_ and using that in place of his bow.

He made it just as Bucky was beginning to be overwhelmed, killing a good number of aliens before they even realized he’d joined the fray.

“Clint?” Bucky asked, grunting in surprise the next moment when an alien ducked under his guard and landed a blow with the blunt end of a weapon.

“Hi,” Clint said, a little gleeful at the opportunity for close combat. He preferred distance fighting, yes, but there was some joy in the opportunity to rely on training he didn’t get to use much.

Over the comms, it sounded like the others were wrapping up – Tony had taken out the source of their hivemind, or whatever, and the others had the stragglers pretty well handled.

Clint finished off the last of the aliens with the scythe and tossed it aside. “You good?” he asked Bucky.

Bucky’s eyes were a little wide. “Where did you come from?”

Clint shrugged. “Building was going down anyway. Figured I couldn’t let you have _all_ the fun.”

Bucky pressed closer to Clint, so close they were almost chest to chest. He reached up with one grossly alien-blood-spattered hand and cupped Clint’s jaw.

Clint, who was high on the adrenaline of the fight, felt like he was going to vibrate out of his skin. “Bucky?” he asked, a little unsure but not moving away.

“Can I kiss you?”

Clint’s brain misfired slightly, but luckily the rapid pace of his processing meant he didn’t hesitate long.

It _didn’t_ mean he answered the way he probably should have, though. “Me?”

Bucky huffed a small laugh. “Yes, you. I’ve been trying to show that I’m interested for weeks.”

“I… weeks?”

Bucky just waited, raising an eyebrow, warm hand still cupping Clint’s jaw.

“I mean… yeah, of course,” Clint finally remembered to say. “God, Bucky, I’ve been in love with you for months.”

Bucky’s smile was blinding. “Good.” He kissed Clint then, warm and soft, before pulling back. “Can I take you on a real date now?”

“Yeah,” Clint breathed, and when had his eyes fallen shut? He opened them and smiled back at Bucky, happiness bubbling in a mix with the adrenaline in his veins. “I promise not to be a disaster on this one.”

Bucky smirked. “I kind of like you being a disaster. Plus, you do okay.” He gestured at the aliens around them. “Besides, maybe I like having the chance to rescue you, too.”

Clint felt possibly warmer than he’d ever felt in his life. “Oh,” he said, cheeks a little red – but that was totally just from the fighting. Not from _feelings._ “Well, that’s okay then.”

Bucky pulled his hand away, and Clint felt the loss of it like an ache, but only for a moment. Bucky tangled their fingers together instead, tugging Clint toward where the others were congregating. “C’mon. Let’s see if we can trick Steve to putting us on press duty so we can make out in front of the reporters.”

Clint laughed.

The End


End file.
